


The Liqueur of Truth

by InmydreamsJemeurs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Drama, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hearteyes, Humor, I hope, Mild Smut, Post Season 6, Post-Canon, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Ser Bronn Therapist and Truthteller, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, after the big battle, except the main idea lol, mostly - Freeform, probably 7 too, when the war is over and everyone's main concern is to finally get Jaime and Brienne together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InmydreamsJemeurs/pseuds/InmydreamsJemeurs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jaime and Bronn try to produce a potion that will make Brienne confess her feelings for Jaime.<br/>Jaime has to fight his demons to deem himself worthy of happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betsy

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I've stolen the whole idea from my favourite childhood telenovela, Floricienta :D  
> Maybe it will turn out the same ;)

"So do you really think this will work?"

Jaime was squatting in the corner of King's Landing biggest public bath. He was fidgeting with a bouquet of rosemaries he'd stolen from the late Grand Maester Pycelle's chamber.

"Only if she is indeed a woman" said Bronn.

For a remark like this Jaime normally would have considered to punch him with his golden hand, but this time Bronn got away with a killer look.

"If I didn't believe it would work, I wouldn't be here, trying to milk a fucking pig!" Bronn replied.

Jaime couldn't help, but smile. He truly looked ridiculous as he was bending over the tub, trying to prevent the sow from running away. The receipt mentioned a quarter of a gallon of pig milk, but the sow had put up a much more severe resistance both of them had expected.

"You said, you've done it before" Jaime said in a mocking tone.

"Aye, I have, but unlike you I wasn't so stupid to step on one of her piglets."

"Oh, so it's my fault now! It wasn't me who lost the other one!"

"Jaime Fucking Lannister! How many times do I have to tell you, that was a stag! You do know that only female pigs are able to produce milk, right?"

"...It was dark."

Bronn spat into the tub.

"At least you could help me calm her down. She's not going to give us any if you keep squatting there like you're trying to shit."

Jaime frowned. This plan proved to be a disaster so far.

"This was your bloody idea. Besides, anyone could walk in on us."

"I thought you paid the owner to close for the day."

"If you think we have enough money left to bribe people every time you pull me into something stupid, you clearly have no idea of war."

"Seven fucks. Alright, pretty boy, come here."

Jaime grudgingly dragged himself to the tub in which a pig had been flailing for half an hour now. Bronn looked him in the eye then pointed at the sow.

"Her name is Betsy."

"Why the fuck are you telling me this?!"

"Hey, hey" Bronn grabbed him by his collar "we're doing this, because you agreed to it! Because without me, you would fuck up your chance with Lady Brienne! Because as good-looking as you are, you are fucking helpless when it comes to romance stuff!"

Jaime shoved him away. He would have never admitted it out loud, but yes he knew he needed him. He needed the philtre. When Bronn talked about it first, it felt like an amoral thing to do. Perhaps it still was. But the more he thought of it, the more he liked the idea. _It's not like we're getting her drunk, anyway. She'll only tell the truth._ And he needed to know. He had to know if she felt the same thing he was feeling every time she was around. If she too wanted to forget about everything else and run away with him to the end of the world.

_I once deluded myself that the woman I loved loved me back. This cannot happen again._

"Fine" he told Bronn "What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, I know just the thing you should do" Bronn said while failing to hide a smile. "Sing."

"Are you serious?"

"What? I've heard pigs enjoy a good song... How about the Rains of Castamere? It sure would get her in the mood."

Jaime's emerald eyes smiled at Bronn.

"You're such a funny lad, aren't you? I wonder why you are still single."

"Probably because you still haven't kept your pledge and failed to give me the beautiful, rich bride you promised."

"Step back."

"Oh now you actually start to do something instead of just whining. I like that in a man."

Jaime bent over the tub. "You sing and I milk. You have a much better voice, anyway."

Bronn sighed "You'll have to double my pay... By the way are you sure you can find her nipples or is it too dark in here, too?"

"Shut your mouth and sing."

"You know I miss your brother more every single day."

Jaime began to pet the pig's back. "All right."

"Betsy" Bronn whispered into his ear.

"... All right, Betsy" said Jaime to the sow after he silenced Bronn with a look.

He kneeled to get a better hold on her. "There we go... Come on now, sing!"

Bronn cleared his throat. "And who are you, the proud..."

"Seven hells, not this one!"

"All right. all right.

    ...A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
    all black and brown, and covered with hair.
    The bear! The bear!

    Oh come they said, oh come to the fair..."

"Hold on, I feel something."

"Good or bad?"

"Give me the bucket, it's working!"

Jaime placed it under Betsy who was visibly enjoying Bronn's performance. "Go on! Don't stop!"

Bronn's caressing baritone filled the hall as Betsy gave in to Jaime.

    "Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!
    The maid with honey in her hair!
    Her hair! Her hair!
    The maid with honey in her hair!

    The bear smelled the scent on the summer air.
    The bear! The bear!
    All black and brown and covered with hair!

    He smelled the scent on the summer air!
    He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
    Honey on the summer air!"

White, watery liquid spread all over Jaime's fingers into the bucket. It was twice as much as they needed for the liqueur.

Jaime straightened looking like he'd just defeated a whole army. Bronn petted his back.

"Is this what you looked like when you killed the Mad King?"

Jaime grabbed the bucket and the rosemaries and headed out of the bathhouse. Bronn followed him a few steps behind.

"I have to admit this was impressive. You should consider writing it into that White Book. Ser Jaime Lannister, the Sowmilker. Has a nice ring to it."

 


	2. Wooing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Bronn apply the liqueur on Brienne. More fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this is getting out of hand :D I planned this fic to be one chapter and still nothing happened. I apologise for it, but I had to drown Jaime in his feelings first.

"What do you mean it's not working?" Bronn asked incredulously.

Him and Jaime had retired to a secret chamber next to the Great Hall, in which Queen Sansa's ball was taking place. Even through the heavy oak door Jaime could hear the disgusting laughter of that ginger wildling. _If he looks at her like that once more..._

"I put just the right amount of clove in it." Bronn continued. "There is no way a handful was too much. Fuck, I have even tested it on Podrick. That boy is an animal, by the way I'm telling you... Are you even listening to me?"

Jaime nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

"I don't care. I don't care what you did. It's not working. Maybe you put it in the wrong cup. Maybe she hasn't drunk it yet."

For the first time in his life his palms were sweaty. This was definitely not the way he imagined this day would go.

"Gods you look miserable" Bronn observed. "Here, drink this. A little wine is always helpful for a lover who's ready to go back to the battlefield... All right, boy, what did you say to her?"

Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know" he said, "nothing."

"Nothing? You do know you can't just expect her to confess her undying love for you just because she has to say the truth. There has to be a build-up first. And you need a bit more than "nothing"."

"I meant nothing I wouldn't normally say to her." Jaime said rolling his eyes.

Bronn smacked his tongue. "That's it. That's the problem. You skipped the wooing."

"The what?"

"The nice little gestures we do for them, until they give in. In my experience all women want to be wooed."

"Brienne is not like that."

"You say this now, but soon she'll get bored of your selfishness and arrogance until one day you look around and she'll be Lady Wildling of House Redhead."

_So he saw it as well. Tormund. Everyone saw how he was looking at her, you fool. And you just sat there doing nothing. You let his filthy eyes measure her face, her body. He looked at her as if she was nothing more than a juicy chicken wing._

Jaime felt his palm clench into a fist.

He knew he had no right to be jealous. But this wasn't the jealousy of a child whose toy had been taken away. He was jealous because that man didn't even know her. Because _that_ man didn't love her.

He didn't know how brave she was, how soft was her heart.

He didn't bare his sinner soul to her to see that magical compassion and understanding only Brienne was capable of. That fool didn't know she was the best person in the world. 

_She deserves to be loved for who she is. She deserves better. Better, than him. Better, than me._

"I need to go back" he told Bronn.

"Have you heard what I just said?"

"I told you, Brienne is not like "all the women"."

"Still I bet she'd love to hear a few nice words from you."

"What? I say nice things to her all the time" Jaime said with smiling eyes and a smirk.

"Just to be clear, asking if you are related doesn't count."

Jaime tilted his head back and smiled at Bronn. It was the smile he inherited from his uncle Gerion. A smile that could make every maiden melt.

"Is there anything else, Ser?"

"You could stop calling her "wench" perhaps. That could be a start."

Still smiling, Jaime turned to go, but after a step he turned back.

"Merely out of curiosity... of all the people, why did you try the liqueur on Podrick?"

Bronn winked at him. "Let's just say that now I know exactly what he did to those whores."

 

* * *

 

 

When Jaime stepped into the Great Hall, the music was twice as loud as it had been when he'd left. _Twice as many drunks as well._  

Ser Davos and some lord from the North were singing The Mermaid's Lament to Sansa. The fat, little lord insisted on kissing her hand after every refrain. _Poor girl,_ Jaime thought, _as if that crown wasn't enough trouble._

He immediately saw them. This time, he didn't clench his fist. He was tired of being jealous. He was tired of having to play a game, exhausted of hiding what he wanted. Who he wanted. _Bronn is wrong. It is not words I need. But acts._

Tormund was throwing grapes into the air, then catching them with his tongue. First one, two, then three at a time. After every stunt he looked at Brienne with a smile from ear to ear. Each time she gifted him with a sweet, innocent laugh.

That sincere, tinkling titter was the loveliest thing Jaime had ever heard. In his ears that laughter was louder, than all the others' drunk chanting. For Jaime, that laughter filled the hall.

He realised he'd never seen her laugh. To see her usually serious features suddenly ease, to see those gorgeous eyes that were capable of expressing so much sadness finally free from sorrow and fill with the most honest, almost childlike joy, it made Jaime realise that despite all her imperfections in appearance, he was looking at the most beautiful human being that ever lived.

His heart ached for it wasn't him who made her laugh. It seemed cruelly unfair. _She barely knows him and yet she's so comfortable around him. She wouldn't act like this if..._ The realisation hit him a second later. _The potion. That's why she's so unguarded. Bronn was right. It had indeed worked._

He headed straight to their table without even taking a look at the drunk wildlings who now decided to act out the final battle with the White Walkers. They didn't notice him when he stopped before them.

"Dance with me, Brienne" he said looking right at her. Only at her. It was half a command, half a plead.

Tormund dropped a grape. The first.

"Jaime?" Brienne asked rather than said, looking astonished.

He didn't say a word. Just looked at her straight in her eyes. Ignoring everything, even Tormund who seemingly had no idea what he just got into.

Jaime stretched out his left arm and offered her his good hand. Determination was flaming in his eyes, ironically it made them look like bits of wildfire. She accepted.

They left the tables, but stayed in the middle of the hall. Right next to them a bald man with a black mop was impersonating Jon Snow, but Jaime couldn't see him. Couldn't see anyone, but her.

He put his right arm around her waist, while she placed her hand on his shoulder. A thousand fiery spots started to burn on Jaime's body when he felt how close they suddenly were.

 _This is the closest we've been since the Bloody Mummers tied us together._ His heart hurt at the possibility that after tonight he might have to wait years again before he could touch her.

 _This is the way it should be._ Jaime felt that his body had healed at every place it was touching hers. Holding her in his arms felt better than defeating Balon Swann. Better than kissing Cersei. It felt like coming home.

 


	3. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime thinks the liqueur is working, but things don't go down the way he'd planned. Even more fluff.

Jaime didn't know how long they'd been dancing for. He'd lost his sense of time. His world has been reduced to Brienne's eyes. Such deep, infinite blue.

He could see his reflection in them. It wasn't the Kingslayer, he saw every time he looked in the mirror. The man he saw in her eyes wasn't the man without honour who killed his king he'd sworn to protect. When he looked into Brienne's eyes, he felt like he could still be everything he'd ever wanted to be. He could be Arthur Dayne instead of the Smiling Knight. For this he loved her even more passionately.

"You look different, Ser Jaime" said Brienne breaking the silence.

"Do I?" _Why Ser? Call me Jaime._

"Yes. Your eyes... Did something happen while you were away?"

"Nothing worth mentioning. Unlike here. I see I've missed quite a lot" he said looking over to Tormund.

"Oh, he's a good man. Most wildlings are."

"Well, he's certainly great at catching food with his tongue. A rare talent I have to say."

Brienne noticed the edge in his voice. She didn't know how to answer. She had no idea, what was happening. _Why would he want to dance with me?_ Of course there was an easy answer for it, that would have explained the way he looked at her, the stump on her waist. In fact, that was the only answer that made sense. But it was impossible.

_You're a fool if you believe in it. Wasn't Renly enough?_

She couldn't bare it any longer, having to remind herself that it's all in her head while he grabbed her, tighter and tighter. It was madness.

Ever since they met in Riverrun she had to make up one ridiculous theory after the other to explain his behaviour towards her. She made herself remember all the men who mocked her, she cried herself into sleep murmuring her septa's words about how ugly she was, the ugliest girl in the world who cannot be loved. She used them as a shield to prevent her making the same mistake again.

_Don't you dare hope._

"Forgive me, Ser, I'm really not a good dancer" she said trying to flee from the situation.

"You're perfect" said Jaime with fiery eyes.

Brienne swallowed. _He only means the dance... Remember Red Ronnet, remember Hyle Hunt. He's Jaime Lannister and you're Brienne the Beauty._

"Forgive me, Ser, I'm not feeling very well. It's getting hot in here."

Jaime looked around.

"Yes, we should leave." And just like that, without even waiting for Brienne's response, he grabbed her hand and turned to leave the ball.

They'd left the Great Hall, they'd left the corridor leading to the balcony, and Jaime's hand was pressing on hers more and more, too afraid that he might lose her along the way. Brienne was on the edge of reason when she realised they were heading into his chamber.

_This is not happening. He doesn't want you. He said it so himself. "You're much uglier in daylight." You're a stupid, ugly wench. This is nothing, but a dream._

Jaime finally released her hand to close the door behind them. Brienne didn't dare to look at him.

_He mustn't see it. He mustn't see that you almost believed he could want you._

Jaime began to take a few steps closer.

Every nerve of her was trembling for his touch, yet fearing it all the same.

"Ser Jaime, it's getting quite late." she said with a shaking voice, still not looking at him.

He didn't answer. Instead, he studied her face as if he wanted to figure out why she said that.

"Do not "Ser Jaime" me."

Brienne didn't know how to respond. "You are a knight."

"I am a man."

His husky voice made her so weak, she would have collapsed at the touch of the briefest waft.

Jaime took another step.

"Do you wish your wildling friend was here, instead of me?"

He lifted his good hand to her cheek. It astonished him how delicate her skin was. _More delicate, than Cersei's._

He felt her shiver under his touch. When he looked into her eyes, Jaime saw how tortured she was. He saw her conflict, her misbelief and he very well knew he gave reason for it in the past. He hated himself for that. But now, he could redeem his terrible mistakes. He felt satisfaction when he thought about how he would shatter all her insecurities into little pieces this night. That he'd bloody well make sure she realised that a man cannot possibly want a woman more than Jaime Lannister wants Brienne of Tarth.

His hand lowered down her body grabbing her waist, pressing himself to her. Gods, how he wanted her. Until now, he didn't really know what desire meant.

"You know why I care about it so much? Tormund?" he whispered it into her ear.

Brienne put her hands between their body, trying to make the gap bigger. Jaime tightened her grip on her.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere, until you answer me. So, do you know why?"

Their gazes met. Brienne was so astonished he wanted to kiss her right away. Once, twice, until he lost counting. He wanted nothing more. But he needed to be sure that she wanted it too. He needed to know if the woman he loved, loved him back.

He was so close to her she felt his heartbeat. His chest was pressing against her breasts and she felt his growing arousal through her breeches. She was praying to the old, the new and all the other gods for this to be reality.

Of course she had an answer to Jaime's question. But she was afraid this all would fade away if she said it out loud. She was afraid, it would prove to be a jape and Jaime would laugh at her for believing that someone like him could ever feel anything for someone like her.

Seeing her struggle, Jaime helped her. "I tell you why, Brienne of Tarth. Because I'm jealous."

He felt her body tremble at his words. Her eyes were so clear at that moment, clearer than the sea, clearer than the morning sunrays, clearer than hope.

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like to kiss me, Brienne of Tarth?" he breathed into her neck. "Because I have. I have thought about kissing you."

Brienne closed her eyes and inhaled. _If this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up._

Jaime placed his good hand under her jaw. "I know you want to kiss me. I can see it in your eyes. But I will not do anything until you say it."

Brienne's cheeks were burning, but not with shame. With want. With the most enthralling excitement she'd ever felt.

She was so excrutiatingly tired of having to analyse every word he said. She wanted to give in. She wanted to believe the impossible.

"Say it, Brienne of Tarth" he whispered into her soul.

He drew her so close, their lips were only a hair's breadth away from crushing together. So close, she could feel his breath - it smelled of wine. She lowered her head, waking up.

Her septa and Red Ronnet found their way back into her thoughts. _Of course. He's drunk._ That was the answer. Nothing more.

Jaime could see her face change. He saw the sadness prevailing in her eyes. _Please, say it, say that you want it. Say the truth._

"It's getting late, Ser Jaime. And you've drunk too much."


	4. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has to digest what has happened and reflect on his relationship with Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK this has gone really deep :D Apparently I cannot be genre-consistent, but hey at least it's closer to canon. This chapter is basically a variant of Jaime's weirwood dream from ASOS.

Jaime thought he wouldn't get any sleep that night. His mind was numb and his whole body hurt. He'd been sitting on his bed since Brienne had left his room. _When was that? A minute ago? Or an hour? A day?_

He couldn't recall what happened after she freed herself from his grasp and walked out the door. He didn't remember how he ended up where he was now. He only remembered her face. Gods, that face. For Jaime it felt like as if the feelings were written on it in a foreign language he couldn't understand. Nothing made sense anymore.

In his head a thousand thoughts were swirling without stop. Not even thoughts, feelings that he failed to put into words. They were like butterflies flying around him so fast he couldn't grab any of them to take a closer look. They were heavy though, so heavy, Jaime felt their weight on his shoulders, and yet he couldn't unfold them.

Only one thing was clear that ocuppied his mind, a terrible torch that only provided darkness. _She doesn't love me._

This was the thought that pertified his soul. This thought stopped him from being able to think anything else. It was the only sure thing he felt he knew, but what a terrible certainty it was!

There was no other option. _She drank the liqueur. She told the truth. She doesn't love me._ He had been repeating it for a thousand times now, still he felt he couldn't ever get used to it. However, he sensed that if eventually somehow he did, it would mean the death of his sanity. The decision he had made to kill the Mad King felt dwarfed now compared to this struggle.

_I deserve it._ He wanted to know if she loved him back. Now he knew.

_I should have never listened to Bronn._ Had he never agreed to his idea, he could still hope. Sure, it would be a false hope, but still, in that moment nothing seemed sweeter than the beautiful ignorance he'd thrown away. His body and soul ached at the thought that he was deprived of this hope forever.

Then he could still believe she felt the same when he touched her, he could delude himself he saw affection in her eyes when they looked at each other, he could believe there is still hope for him to become Arthur Dayne. 

He had never seen it so clearly that losing Brienne would mean the loss of his best self. _Without her, I'm nothing more than the Kingslayer. Without her, I cannot save myself._

Jaime thought he wouldn't get any sleep that night, but as soon as he layed down on his bed, his eyes shut and he fell into a terribly deep, feverish dream.

 

* * *

 

He dreamt he was at a meadow with a castle in front of it. _Casterly Rock_ \- he knew with the certainty of dream, yet it looked nothing like the place he'd grown up.

_We don't have brooks on the Rock_ , he thought, but there it was one, crossing the meadow, separating it from the castle.

He spotted a fragile figure, sitting in the grass, facing him with his back. Jaime went up to him.

It was a little boy with auburn hair and blue eyes. There was a horse made of wood in his hands and a bunch of other toys around him in the grass. Jaime sat down next to him and joined his game without saying a thing. They were playing without words as if they had known each other for years. They had been playing for days, months, years even, Jaime sensed it by the turn of the weather. Until suddenly a lightning struck in a tree near them.

"A storm is coming. We need to go in" Jaime said breaking the eternal silence.

"No!" the boy protested with such passion Jaime was taken aback by his words. He took a closer look at him. His face was familiar to Jaime, but he couldn't recognise it.

"If we stay here, we'll get soaked to the skin" he tried to persuade the boy.

"If I go in, my father will force me to read" the boy said lowering his head.

"You don't like reading?" Jaime asked warmly.

"I prefer fighting" the boy said after a shrug. "Someday, I will be a great knight."

Jaime smiled at his words. _I used to be like him._

"Who is your father?" Jaime asked.

"Tywin Lannister" came the answer.

_That is not possible_. Another lightning struck in the tree. Bewildered, Jaime looked at the boy's face that suddenly started to change.

His brown hair became golden blonde and the blue eyes turned green. Jaime was startled when he recognised himself.

"Who are you?" he asked the little boy, though he already knew the answer.

"I am you" said the young Jaime as his face started to morph. His rosy cheeks began to bloat while his skin was peeling off of them. Jaime watched himself in horror until his vision began to blur as if he was moving away from the boy. He could only hear his voice full of blame:

"Why did you fail me?"

He found himself in a labyrinth with walls that reached the sky. Cersei was there with him. His sister, his lover, his queen.

"Why am I here?" he asked her.

"This is your place, brother."

"This isn't my home."

"Where do you think your home is? In Casterly Rock? In King's Landing? Home is wherever I am, brother. We belong together."

"Not anymore. I am not you. I never was."

Creepers grabbed his wrists at her beck, forcing him against the wall.

"Where would you go, brother? To _her_?"

Jaime knew who she meant.

"Poor little brother" said Cersei "Did you really think you could love anybody after me?"

He looked her in the eye. She was more beautiful than ever, yet all he felt at her sight was repulsion.

"I love her."

"And are you so stupid to think that is enough? You think you can ever stop loving _me?_ "

"You are dead, Cersei. I killed you with my own hands."

"It doesn't mean you're free of me. You will never be. People don't change. I live inside you now, brother."

Jaime wanted to answer, but his tongue wouldn't move. Cersei stepped aside and he could see that more people were coming to him from different directions. _I know these people_ , he thought, though he couldn't see any of their faces.

One of them stepped out of the darkness, tall and majestic, his hair as white as snow.

_Selwyn Tarth_ , Jaime knew, although he had never met him before.

"Lord Selwyn."

"Don't you dare say my name, boy."

Jaime could see his tears frozen under his eyes, and he knew exactly what he was going to say. He wanted to prevent it.

"My lord, I..."

"You ruined her."

The words that were uttered with the deepest grief hit Jaime in the chest. He felt his own tears running down his cheeks now.

"No, I.."

"Do you think I don't see through your filthy intentions, Kingslayer?"

"No, I wasn't... I wouldn't have... I just wanted to know if she loved me is all."

"And what if she did? You'd wed her and make a Lannister out of her? Do you think I will stand by while that happens? My daughter, the purest human being in this world marrying a murderer? Oh yes, I know. Slaying Aerys was hardly a sin compared to what you did with that poor Stark boy. And how many were there? How many innocent that you killed before you claim that you have changed? A good deed does not wash out the sins. There is no redemption for you."

Jaime wept at his words like a child. Every sentence was an arrow shot straight into his heart. _It is true. All of this is true._

"But... I love her... I love her" he cried grievously. He collapsed in front of Lord Selwyn and grabbed his boots while sobbing "Please... believe me! I... she makes me better. If I lose her, I'm lost."

"What does it matter?" said Lord Selwyn. His eyes were as cold as ice. "You're not worthy of her."

In the next moment all the others started marching towards Jaime, with their swords drawn. Catelyn Stark was there, Jory Cassel  and Alton Lannister, his cousin that he killed to get back to Cersei.

_I'm not the man I was, I'm not the man who hurt you_ , he wanted to tell them, but his voice was lost in the depths of the labyrinth.

They were so close, Jaime could see their rotten faces under their hoods.

_They cannot hurt me, as long as I am whole._

In his dreams he'd always had two hands, but now, it was only one. _If I die in this dream, I will die for real_ , Jaime felt it in his bones.

He shut his eyes, ready to receive the deadly strike, but he heard a familiar voice behind his back.

"I swore an oath to keep you safe, Ser. And I plan to keep it."

 

 

 

 


	5. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime isn't well. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, Therapist and Truthteller to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100x better if you read it in Bronn's voice :D  
> I originally wanted this fic to be one chapter, now it's more than likely that it will turn out to be quite long. I hope you'll enjoy :)  
> Happy shipping!

"Let me in or I'll take your fancy sword and shove it up your fancy ass!"

Bronn stood in front of Jaime's chamber trying to get through the guards. They hadn't been on duty for half a year now, since the time of the long-awaited peace and prosperity begun. That's why it was so odd of Jaime to have these two tenderfoots dragged from the sweet sun to guard his chamber. _Against whom?_

It's been three days since he locked himself in there. Three days since anyone saw him.

"Ser Jaime's command is clear. We cannot let anyone in the chamber."

The guards were tow-headed and white-skinned. _Fooking Lannisters_. They haven't even seen their twentieth name day yet. One of them had tried to grow a moustache, but apparently failed.

"I am not anyone, lad" Bronn said taking a step closer. The twins didn't move. It had been a long time since any of them had to swing a sword.

"Come on, boys, you certainly have more important things to do than baby-sitting Jaime Lannister. Go and lose your maidenheads instead! For fuck's sake, you've survived the war, surely you don't want to die now."

"You're forgetting the odds, Ser. You are alone" said the one with the moustache.

"And I'm twice your age. Does your mommy know you're here?"

The twins grabbed the tilts of their swords and Bronn reached for his dagger quick as a wink, but in the next second they heard Jaime's husky voice through the oak door.

"Let him in."

The twins grudgingly let go of their swords. They looked rather disappointed. _These fuckers thought they could beat me._

"You've heard your lord, get out of my way... Nice moustache by the way, I used to have something similar when I was ten."

"Patience isn't your strong suit, is it?"

Jaime was sitting at his table in the dark. His eyes were red and framed by grey circles. _How long hasn't he slept?_

The smile that was always hiding in his eyes and made his perfect features even more charming disappeared. Now they were dark and morose. Bronn's heart hurt at the sight of him.

"You look terrible."

Jaime got up from the table. "You nearly killed my guards just to tell me how bad I look?" he asked with a joyless smile.

His face was pale and expressionless. His voice different, too. The usual playful edge was absent, its place taken by gaping emptyness. It was apparent that it required effort of him to put on any kind of emotion. _He's just a shadow of himself._

"This is not healthy. How long has it been since you were outside?"

"What does it matter?" Jaime sighed.

"I'm not going to let you waste away in this bloody room."

"I'm fine" Jaime said with such a tone that contradicted his words.

"Have you looked in the mirror recently? You look like your father. After his death."

Bronn was waiting for him to tilt his head back and send him a look that said 'you are the worst shit in the Seven Kingdoms' like he would normally have at a comment like this, but now Jaime didn't react. He kept staring at his boots. _He's broken._

It was only now that Bronn saw the chest on his bed.

"You're already going on honeymoon?"

Jaime looked back at it, as if he'd forgot it was there.

"I'm going to Casterly Rock."

"Really? When are you coming back?"

Jaime looked him in the eyes. "I don't plan on coming back."

He sounded like a man who's been sentenced to death.

_Oh for fook's sake. This is even more screwed up, than I thought._

"You would just leave your lady here?? Alone?"

Jaime sighed. "...She's... not my lady. Never was."

Bronn could hear in his voice how he was fighting his tears. He kneeled down forcing Jaime to look at him.

"Listen. That girl loves you. It is known. Everyone with an eye can see, she is fooking mad about you! You know that a liqueur isn't going to change that!"

Jaime closed his eyes. "No. No, you weren't there."

Bronn rubbed his nape and sat down next to him. "All right, you leave me no choice. What happened that night?"

Jaime got up. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, it cannot be that bad."

Jaime raised his gaze. This time he didn't force any expression on his face, this time his eyes were honest, full of the most heartwrenching, poignant sorrow Bronn had ever seen. _I fucked up everything._

"...So what if she didn't say it at the first try? You're going to give up after one little rejection?"

Jaime shook his head. 

"It's not like that. She's drunk the liqueur." _She laughed at Tormund._ The bitterness he felt thinking of this memory made him open up. "She should have said something. Anything... like _I_ did! I practically confessed to her without that bloody liqueur!"

"Maybe you fucked up the wooing." 

Jaime looked at him as if he'd just denied that the sky was blue.

"Oh, believe me, I didn't fuck up the wooing" he said in such a peremptory tone Bronn didn't dare to argue with it.

"All right, Ser Heartthrob, then why did it end so badly?"

Jaime lowered his head. _Why, indeed?_ He himself wasn't sure of it. 

"She.. she thought... I was drunk, I think. Probably the wine you gave me before I went back to the..."

His expression changed, the emerald eyes started to widen. _The wine._

His eyes settled on Bronn.

"OH, YOU BASTARD... It was you! You didn't put the liqueur in Brienne's cup, you made _me_ drink it!"

Bronn was looking at the ceiling, rubbing his beard. There was a brief silence before he chose to speak.

"All right... Let's not make a big deal out of it."

"MAKE A BIG DEAL OUT OF IT?" Jaime was raging. "I can't believe you did this, you... you lied to me, you betrayed me..."

"Easy boy, easy. Look at the bright side, now you have no reason to doubt her love for you."

"No, only that now she believes I was just playing with her! Oh, gods..."

Jaime suddenly remembered everything he'd said.

_Say it, Brienne of Tarth._

Everything she might have thought. The misbelief in her eyes. Her long hesitation. Her almost giving in. Her smelling the "wine".

 _It's getting late, Ser Jaime._ Her face when she said it.

 _Gods, no, no, no._ He wanted to run to Brienne to tell her everything was true, every word he uttered that night, every touch. To tell her he wasn't drunk, to tell her that he drank the liqueur, to tell her he had never in his life before told anything that was more true.

Bronn saw his struggle.

"Did you really think, I'd let that poor girl expose her feelings, while you were being your smug self? It was you who needed honesty, not her."

"She's never going to speak to me again." Jaime mumbled to himself. "She'll never trust me again."

"How about we'll make a new plan, okay? A plan starting with you keeping your ass exactly where it is right now."

Before Jaime could have said anything there was a knock on the door. Whoever it was, didn't wait for Jaime's answer, instead opened it straight away.

Brienne stood there in nothing but her nightgown.

"Ser Jaime, I have something to tell you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isis, I told you that you're smart ;) :D


	6. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Bronn receive an unlikely visitor. Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this didn't turn out well, but it's 3am here and I cannot really tell :D

Jaime thought he was still dreaming. After the moment Bronn stepped into his room this day felt like one long dream. Three days ago his whole world crushed into a thousand pieces and now over ten minutes everything turned upside down.

For three days he thought Brienne didn't love him, for three days he thought his dreams were dead.

_I was dead. I didn't accept it and yet it felt just._

_If the gods are real, if they are just why should I end up being happy? Why should I get what I want? In what story does the villain get the maiden fair? No_ , he thought, _it's right the way it is. She shouldn't love me, even if I perish of it, she shouldn't._  

For three days he was between life and death. It was too short a time to accept it, but too long to forget. Had it been two days earlier that Bronn told him the truth, then he would be weeping sweet, sweet tears of joy crying out Brienne's name, engraving it into tree trunks.   _She loves me._ That's what a lover would do. 

But it was too late. He remembered Lord Selwyn's words.

_What if she did? You're not worthy of her._

He already hurt her. Unwillingly, yes, but what did it matter? As he evoked her face it was so clear what she must have felt that night. Finally she could have believed she could be desired, she could be loved. That she was a woman, not a beast.

After how many years of humiliation, mockery and abuse? _I could have made her believe it. It was so close. But I spoiled everything._

_I should have thought about what she was feeling. I should have been more careful._

Jaime's soul anguished and pulsated at his fail. How long will it take for Brienne to recover from it? Weeks, months, years? _Either way, it was too much of a price for me to learn the lesson._

He didn't hear what Bronn said, his own words echoed in his head when he heard the knock on the door. _She'll never trust me again._

It was Brienne, his mind reported, standing there in his chamber wearing her blue nightgown.

_This is a dream._

"Ser Jaime, I have something to tell you."

She looked disheveled and ablaze, her eyes flaming with green fire. She was waiting for him to respond while her chest went up and down as she inhaled. Jaime stood up.

"Brienne... what are you doing here? Your clothes...?"

"I have to tell you something" she repeated "something I should have told you long ago."

"Seven fooks" Jaime heard over his back. Until this moment he forgot Bronn was there, too.

Jaime looked over to him. Seeing his unbidden smile, he understood everything. _Oh no, you didn't._

"Is there something I should know?" Jaime's voice was trembling of anger.

Bronn was rubbing his nape, again.

"There is... a slight chance... that I accidentally... put a little drop of the liqueur into the Lady's breakfast this morning."

Jaime took a step closer. "What did you do?!"

"Oh, come on, I felt bad about lying to you. I heard you'd been huddling in your room for three days. I thought I'd make it even.... I just wanted to fix it, boy!

Jaime clenched his jaw. "FIX IT?! You thought THIS would fix it?"

"Why not? Finally you can get what you want! This was the original plan you agreed to." he said lowering his voice because of Brienne.

It was. Yet Jaime felt bad about it. Something was different. 

Brienne still stood at the doorstep, visibly not understanding what the two men was talking about.

"Get out of here!" Jaime said not looking at Bronn.

Bronn got up very circumstantially as if he was the martyr of the whole situation. 

As he walked past Jaime he turned around and asked with a smirk "Can I take the girl with me?"

"GO AWAY!" thundered Jaime's voice.

"All right, all right. I'll leave you two alone... Just don't be too loud, Pod is trying to sleep next floor."

He shut the door behind him before Jaime could have jumped there and punched him in the face.

He let out a nervous sigh. This was the third turning of his world over the past fifteen minutes.

He looked at Brienne standing there, so persistent, so honest, straight as an arrow.

Despite all the anger he felt at Bronn, he had to admit to himself that he was secretly overjoyed.

Under the long depths of self-hate and confusion a little nook in his heart was singing with bliss, for she was again in the same room as him.

After three days of certainty that he'd never have the right to hope again, the woman he loved was breathing the same air as him.

The woman he loved was here and loved him back. It sounded too good to be true.

It was so much joy, Jaime's heart nearly ached of delight. _Can this be true?_

"Brienne..." he tried to avoid her gaze "you have to know that I don't want you to say anything you don't want to."

"But I want to" came the answer.

Jaime looked at her as if she was a vision. _This cannot be happening. If the gods are just..._

He felt like he was going crazy. This is what he wanted more than anything, and now it was there.

Brienne started to walk towards him.

 _I mustn't look into her eyes_ , into the sapphire sea of Tarth that was now burning with wildfire. He knew that if he did, he'd drown. If he did, he wouldn't stop until the Maid of Tarth was no longer a maiden.

Now she was only one step away from him.

"I've been denying it for too long. Even before myself."

Brienne was talking in her usual naive, honest tone, only that the words she said would have never left her mouth without the liqueur. _She's herself, she's just saying what she's thinking._

_Is this the proper way to do this? What if she found out? She wouldn't forgive me._

"You don't have to do this" Jaime said lowering his head, so that he wouldn't see her face.

His voice wasn't really convincing, he felt it himself.

"You said yourself that I should say it."

"Say what?" Jaime asked. He wanted to take a step back, but his body wouldn't obey.

"That I want to kiss you" Brienne said. "I do."

Jaime swallowed. He couldn't avoid her gaze any longer. The most seductive about her was that she didn't even try to be seductive. She was so different from Cersei. She said everything in her sweet, clean-handed way and with such innocence that Jaime needed all his strength not to pin her against the wall.

She didn't even do anything, just stood in front of him, waiting for his answer.

But Jaime couldn't answer.

"Brienne..." it sounded like a plead. He didn't know what he was begging for. For her to stop or the opposite? 

She did the opposite.

"I wanted to kiss you that night, too" she said as if she was talking about the weather.

Jaime felt himself weaken. He wanted to run away, out of the room, take a shower and picture his uncle Kevan without clothes, still he stayed and said:

"...Really?"  _I'm going to the deepest of the Seven Hells._

Brienne nodded, his eyes so serious and sad.

_Gods, have mercy. If this is a dream, I want to die in it._

"But I was too afraid that you might be playing a joke on me."

The sentence was a knife in Jaime's heart. _No, no._ But before he could have answered Brienne continued.

"I wanted _you_ to kiss me" she whispered bringing her lips only an inch away from his.

Jaime felt he couldn't hold himself back much longer. He buried his face into the magically delicate skin of her bare shoulders.

"I should have. I should have kissed you until you forgot about all the men who hurt you. It was true, everything I said."

Suddenly he felt her touch on his face. She'd put her hands on his cheeks and made him look her in the eye.

"I wanted it to be true, Jaime."

Her mouth was brushing against his and Jaime didn't want to hold back anymore. His lips crushed into hers and in a second all those years' waiting, longing and tension embodied in their first kiss. It was full of hunger on Jaime's part and meek desire on Brienne's. He was trying to be gentle, but he couldn't stop himself when he felt her react. As soon as she gave him more opening, Jaime deepened the kiss. He felt her slowly trying to mimic his movements, making him even more thirsty for her touch. The more he got, the more he wanted.

He was drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued


	7. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is under the liqueur's effect. Things escalate quickly.

Jaime Lannister only felt truly alive when he was fighting or making love. His one true god had always been the Warrior. Combat and Cersei, for more than seventeen years he lived for these two things. Yet, nothing he'd done before resembled of what he was feeling now.

He felt that his lips were glued to Brienne's, that he couldn't ever separate them even if he wanted to. He didn't dare to break the kiss, not even once, not even to catch his breath. He was afraid this was a dream. That it could fade away in any second and leave him longing forever. 

He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. He wanted to feel her body against his. She was too soft, too warm. Jaime's senses were pulsating at every touch they'd shared.

Never had it been clearer how much he loved her. Her ears, her neck, her lips, the scars on her face, her everything. He was losing his mind over how huge his desire was. He wanted her. Only her. His body and soul were screaming for more.

Their lips were moving in sync and Jaime fastened the pace. Brienne hadn't opened her eyes since she put her hands on Jaime's cheeks and said the words that broke his insecurity. She didn't back out, not even when Jaime pushed her against the wall.

She was trying to imitate what he did like a good pupil would do so when he thrust his tongue into her mouth she did the same.

Jaime's heart skipped a beat when he felt it. _Gods, how I want her._ He felt his aching arousal taking over his mind. His thoughts were reduced to Brienne's lips, the curve of her small breasts, her obedience. Everything she did was fuel to his fire.

Jaime wasn't happy, he was desperate. Desperate, like a prisoner who was held captive for decades and now freed for only an hour to enjoy the sun. He wanted everything and he wanted it now.

His kiss became more demanding, more vehement and he couldn't pull it back. He very well knew that these kisses weren't for an innocent maiden, that Brienne's lips were probably already aching from his passion, that his grip was too strong on her waist. But he couldn't help it. It drove him crazy that he knew he was kissing Brienne. The girl who had never been touched, who wanted to keep his oath to Catelyn Stark against all odds, who wanted to spare him from the Bloody Mummers' cruelty.

Images were appearing in front of his eyes, the Harrenhal tub, the moment he saw her for the first time that he'd thought would be the last, his cock stirring under the bathwater, her touch as she held him, her look when she called him Ser Jaime, her eyes when she named Oathkeeper, her chin wobbling when she said goodbye, her wave as she was leaving Riverrun. 

 _It's her. I wanted her all along._ For so long. It was crystal clear now. Not Cersei, Brienne.

 _I love her, I love her, I love her._ He was too overwhelmed to say it out loud so he compensated by a thousand kisses. But he felt it wasn't enough to make up for it. In fact it seemed pathetically little. As if he was trying to pay for a castle with a horse.

He was terribly afraid that nothing could express his love, his need for her. He dreaded that no matter what he'd do he'd still feel in debt.

He grabbed Brienne's nightgown and pulled it over her head. She wasn't wearing any smallclothes. 

It was the first time Jaime truly felt that his love for Brienne wasn't just fondness. It wasn't pure. It wasn't that platonic, ideal love a gallant knight would feel for his lady. His love was full of possessiveness, selfishness and lust. He wanted to feel her everywhere, he wanted to feel _her soul_.

Surprisingly, Brienne didn't cover herself. She just stood there, ready for his touch. It felt odd to Jaime for a moment. _She's not different, just honest._

He didn't dare to break the silence. If it was indeed a dream, he might wake himself up. _I'm mad._

 _She wants it too_ , he explained her silence to himself as he began planting kisses on her. Her collarbone, her breasts, her hips. Every kiss of his were a dying man's sip of water trying to cure his thirst. But the more he sipped the more he was crying for the next.

It was all too much and not enough at the same time. He wanted to inhale her, possess her, kiss every bit of her, so that she'd forget all the monstrosities that happened to her.

Brienne clinged her fingers into his hair and pulled him back on his feet. Jaime's heart was singing when she tried to remove his shirt.

She tossed it behind her back and wrapped her arms around the bare skin of his broad shoulders and it was Jaime who shivered under her touch. To have her initiate was more he dared to dream of. He wanted to make her his right there.

Jaime attacked her mouth again and kissed her as if his life depended on it. Brienne's ragged breathing was music to his ears as he sucked a mark on her neck. She began to unlace his breeches, but he lifted her and layed her on the table.

She was naked. She was beautiful. She was Brienne. He still couldn't believe this was happening. _If this is a dream, let me die now._

He climbed on top of her and buried his face into her bosom. She was motionless under him. Not shivering, not trembling, waiting.

Jaime looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire.

"Brienne?" he broke the silence. This was what he'd been craving for for so long and to delay it even for one moment felt like a crime against nature, but he needed to feel that she felt the same. That her heart was hammering in her chest, too. He needed _her soul_. He needed to know that this was the same Brienne who was blushing when he climbed into her tub, the same Brienne who wanted to beat her up for speaking ill of Renly.

Jaime looked at her and froze. Her eyes were calm and honest, but not blue. They were still burning with green wildfire from the liqueur.

 _I can see through your filthy intentions, Kingslayer,_ he heard Lord Selwyn's voice.

Jaime dropped his head. He'd forgotten about the liqueur, he'd forgotten about the tears frozen under the eyes of her father. He'd forgotten his own terrible sins the old man reminded him of. This was the wake up, he knew would come.

"I am worse than he thought" Jaime said out loud, his voice pealing with self-hatred as he wrapped a blanket over Brienne.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like they were waaaay overdue some sexy time... I cannot really write sexyness but I seriously tried :D


	8. The Tenth Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime isn't pleased with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I plan to do it more frequently in the future

"Why did you stop?" Jaime heard Brienne's voice.

She was sitting on the table, her legs pulled up, Jaime's shirt starting to fall from her shoulders.

He was sitting on the ground, his head buried in his palms. It had been minutes since he last draw a breath. Brienne's voice sounded to him as if it came from another world.

Now he saw his misery clearly again. He saw everything that he realized after his dream, everything that spoiled his happiness when Bronn told him she hadn't drunk the potion. Everything that poisoned his joy when Brienne showed up at his doorstep. _She deserves better._

He was in hell when he thought Brienne didn't love him. Still this was worse. _It doesn't matter._ _You've ruined her._ He just realized what Lord Selwyn meant. He wasn't talking about her honor, her maidenhead. Just her life. 

One thing was worse than Brienne not loving him. Knowing she loved him back and realizing they cannot be together.

_I just wanted to know if she loved me back is all._

_What if she did? You're not worthy of her._

Indeed, it didn't matter. Never was it clearer to Jaime. For he could leave the wealth behind, lose another hand, pledge his life to the gods, help the poor and unfortunate for fourty years, starve himself for another thirty and still not deserve her. Not because he was the Kingslayer, merely because Jaime Lannister was never good enough for Brienne of Tarth. _How many times do I have to break her heart to understand?_

 _People don't change._ _Did Cersei say this?_ He could no longer tell his thoughts and his dream apart.

As he looked up at the naked Brienne his sins were all so tangible, they seemed more real to him than her sitting on the table. Yet, every single one of them was outshone by the latest one.

He saw himself standing in front of a trial. He could barely see anything clearly, yet, he knew why he was standing there. He felt the weight of his sins in the core of his bones. As he looked sideways he only saw shadows, beyond them nothing. He wasn't even surprised when he realised his feet weren't touching the ground. There was no ground at all. He looked down at his hands. Chained.

Jaime looked up at the podium above him, it was the only thing he could recognize. A silhouette of a tall man he saw. A tall man whose face was hidden from his gaze by the shadows.

"Is there something you can say in your defense?" His voice sounded familiar to Jaime, yet he couldn't recognize it.

"Lord Selwyn?" he asked.

"I'm the one who asks here" was the answer. Jaime took a step to the right looking up at the figure, but from each angle his face was malformed, distorted, lacking eyes and bones. _A face of someone burnt alive_ , Jaime thought. He didn't want to defend himself, but he felt the need to say something.

"I didn't plan to do it... Not here, not like this, not on that wretched table." 

He looked up at his judge, waiting for an answer.

"Come on" the man said "I'm not Lord Tarth. He had already wormed his way into your mind."

"Who are you then?" Jaime asked.

"The real question is who are _you_? You've changed quite a bit since we last saw each other." The man's voice deepened, the ice cold tone rang familiar to Jaime.

"Father?... What do you want from me?"

Yes, Lord Tywin stood there, taller, colder than he ever was in his life. His face was still deformed, but Jaime knew it was him.

"Do you think you are the man you were meant to be?" the man said in Tywin's voice.

A bitter smile took over Jaime's face.

"You've come here from the dead to tell me I've disappointed you? You've already made that pretty clear in your life."

"You didn't answer my question."

"The man I was meant to be?" Jaime cleared his throat. His father seemed to have grown to be even more irritating after his death when it came to scolding his children.

Anger and indignation flashed in Jaime's eyes. "The man you think I was meant to be or the man I think I should have been?" _I failed at both._ "Your heir, the Lord of Casterly Rock, the new Tywin Lannister? Because you wanted me to be that, didn't you?" Tears were choking his throat, but he couldn't stop. _What is happening to me?_ "Have you ever taken a look at me to see what _I_ want? What I really am, Father? You failed to see it, didn't you? Even though Aunt Genna told you years ago. Or you just turned a blind eye to it, because who I was didn't suit your plans? "

Tywin didn't answer. His silence loosened Jaime's tongue and gave him the urge to tell everything he should have told him while he was alive.

Jaime spread his arms. He was smiling through the hot tears that blurred his eyes. His chains fell apart at his first word.

"I'm a failure! Is that what you wanted to hear?" his voice cut through the shadows in front of the podium. "I failed you and my house, I spat on your legacy, I sided with the Starks, I killed your daughter, I _fucked_ your daughter...! Say something...!"

Jaime was trembling under his tears and sweat, the tendons in his neck started to bulge as he was shouting the truth in the figure's direction. He wanted his father to scream at him, to curse him, to react as a normal person would do, claim that he's not his son anymore. He needed him to acknowledge he'd changed.

A path of shadows leading to the podium showed itself and Jaime started to walk up to him on it.

"Come on, Father, just admit that you were wrong when you thought I was like you. When you thought I was a Lannister."

Lord Tywin's larva face didn't move.

Jaime drew a deep breath. His features hardened. Now, out of the two he was the one who looked more like the living Tywin Lannister.

"I set Tyrion free" Jaime said after a brief silence. "You know what I felt guarding your dead body? 

Nothing. Not a single tear was shed at your funeral, I guarantee that, Father."

The holes of Tywin's eyes stared back at him tearless.

"Of course you don't care about that. It is not love you sought. It is not your family you cared about. Just your legacy."

Suddenly Jaime's eyes filled with tears, but he forced himself to look at the vision's face.

"Once Cersei told me that you loved me more than anything in this world..."

He studied his face to see if his father reassures or denies his words. He did neither.

Jaime chuckled. His face was now merely an inch away from his late father's.

"But then again... Cersei was mad."

Tywin nodded with approval. It felt so grotesque, Jaime started to lose his temper.

"Why are you even here? You have nothing to do with..."

"Brienne?"

 _...Yes, that is father's voice, full of disdain and manipulation._  Jaime felt his throat go soar.

"Don't say her name."

"I'm just a ghost, son. If you see me, that's only because you want me to be here."

Jaime frowned as Tywin continued.

"I know what you want. You wish that I disinherit you, free you from the sin of being a Lannister... for what? For _her_? What do you want, Jaime? Live in a miserable little cottage far from the capital? Doing what exactly? Growing plants and playing with your children you'll beget by that Tarth girl? Would that be enough for you? Do you think just because the war is over, you can turn your back on your family? You can turn your back on your real self?"

Jaime burst out. "You know nothing of my real self! You never bothered to find out! Don't you know what I did? I had to choose between _your_ house and my honour. I've made my choice long ago."

Lord Tywin's face came to life. "You are my blood. I know you, Jaime. I know who you were. People don't change."

"I KILLED YOU!" Jaime's scream blew away all the shadows. Had he looked down he would have seen that they were laviating over his chamber. Over Brienne.

The blow broke Tywin's balance, made him stumble, but Jaime caught him before he could have fallen. Only Tyrion would have recognized the words he was about to say.

"You are my son. You will always be my son."

His mask of a face began to melt and as Jaime peeled it off of him, he saw his own face under it. Horror flooded through his blood as he heard Tywin's voice while he saw his own mouth utter the words.

"I am nothing but a ghost, Jaime. I said nothing _you_ don't think."


	9. Just Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has decisions to make while Brienne is still overly sincere.
> 
> "Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,  
> And by and by clean starved for a look;  
> Possessing or pursuing no delight  
> Save what is had, or must from you be took."  
> /Shakespeare, Sonnets LXXV/

"Why did you stop?" Brienne asked again.

When Jaime finally looked over to her, she was still sitting on the table, naked. He looked around anxiously. For a long moment he thought that Lord Tywin might still be there. What a horrid image would that be. The rotting ghost of his father and the Maid of Tarth naked as her name day. People always said that Lord Tywin never loved any woman but his wife. Jaime knew it was true, although he remembered the dead body of Tyrion's whore laying stretched out on his bed rather vividly. The Lannister men loved their women most ardently, yet what did it matter? His mother, Tysha, Shae. They were long gone. 

"Jaime?" Brienne said timidly. It was the first time she addressed him only by his name without the title. The title that Jaime was so grateful for when she called him 'Ser Jaime' in Harrenhal.  _She was probably the first in seventeen years who actually meant it._  Jaime could still feel the tears burning his eyes when he heard it. Those two words were the healing ointment applied to a burning wound that had been aching for seventeen years, they were the gentle breeze carressing the tempetuous sea, a mother's mercy forgiving her murderer son. Those two words were the absolution of every sin Jaime had ever committed.  _Not all of them. Just the ones she knew of._  He remembered his silence afterwards. He wanted to say so much, but it remained unsaid. For how can you thank someone who had brought you back to life? They said that his family always payed their debts, but all the Lannisters' gold wouldn't have been enough to repay those two words.

This time it was only one word. His name. It was more than respect, acceptance, absolution. It was love. It was as clear as day and it poured overpowering happiness and bitter pain into his heart. As she said it with such purity, sitting on his table naked and careless as a child, her eyes burning in the green wildfire which she knew nothing of, she was the epitome of innocence. ' _Jaime_ ' it echoed in his ears. It was the sweetest combination of human sounds Jaime could have imagined. His name on Brienne's lips. It occurred to him as if his name got purified having been uttered by the sweetest human being. He was dying to hear it again and again. It was madness but in that moment he thought that if Brienne said it enough times it might sound like it used to. When his mother called for him and seated him in her lap. ' _Jaime_.' When Daven and his other cousins wanted him to show them how to swing a two-handed sword. ' _Jaime_.' When Tyrion said his first word. ' _Jaime_.' Those ancient times when the name refered to the Young Lion, not the Kingslayer. From Brienne's mouth his name sounded like the title of a lullaby that he thought was lost long ago.

Jaime went up to her with steady eyes, overflown with emotion, though it seemed that even he himself wasn't sure if he would burst out in tears or smile the second he reached her. Had someone looked into Jaime Lannister's eyes in that moment, he would have seen the real man. Not the mask worn towards the world, not the Oathbreaker, not even Goldenhand, _just_  Jaime.

He took Brienne's face in his hands and kissed her. Not in the way he did before. This one was gentle like the first kiss of bride and groom. Shy like that of the newly-weds who had barely touched each other before. Calm and slow like the hundredth kiss of man and wife. Knowing and loving for they had already kissed each other a million times with their eyes. The Warrior was kissing the Maid, the Father was kissing the Mother. Jaime anguished over his desire to condense all the love and kisses of a lifetime in that one peck on the lips. A life that can never be reality.

Then he looked into Brienne's eyes while still holding her head. He held it as if he feared that otherwise she would fade away. He held it like he didn't want to let go of her in the next fifty years but he knew he'd have to.

"Jaime?" Brienne asked once more but before she could have opened her eyes Jaime kissed her again. Because one wasn't enough. Because a thousand kisses wouldn't have been enough. Because he knew he couldn't ever kiss her again after this night and the notion to live without the chance to repay her love and to express his frightened him more than anything else he'd witnessed in his life.  _A life without Brienne._  The thought was more dreadful than watching Aerys burn alive his Hands, more horrific than the sight of the rising smoke over the Sept of Baelor when he arrived from the Twins.

Yet, he knew there was no other option. He was born to be a Lannister and that was all he would ever be. She was too good. She'd have forgiven everyone. Even those whose sins are unforgiveable.  _I would only use her for my own redemption._

His kiss became more desperate. His lips clinged to hers as a dying man's last-ditch effort to hang onto life. Brienne could feel Jaime's tears on his lips before he pulled away to look at her.

"Brienne" he started, but before he could have continued Brienne's lips were on his now.  _No, no, this cannot happen again. It would only make it worse. For her, especially._  He decided to stop, but Brienne had already found her way to his crotch. He was just a weak man. He planned every touch to be the last, he determined to pull away after each kiss.  _This one. This will be our goodbye._  Brienne's arm held onto his shoulder.  _Goodbye._  She pulled him to the table.  _Goodbye_.Their lips squeezed and sprang apart.  _Goodbye._  Brienne caught his one good hand and placed it on the juncture of her thighs.  _Oh, no._

 Jaime raised his hand and took a step back.

The same expression began to unfold on Brienne's face as he'd seen when the ghost of his father disappeared. Incomprehension, innocence, naiveté.

"What's wrong? I thought you wanted this, too."

Jaime rubbed his nape. Her words were stings in his heart. Of course he wanted it. He wanted her more than anything in this wretched world. But that didn't matter.  _No matter what she believes, I'm a vile man, even if I'm broken. Suffering doesn't change anything._

 _'One good act doesn't wash out the bad'_   he heard Lord Selwyn's voice. Or was it his own?

_By my side only pain awaits her._

He put his hand on her shoulder and tried to prevent his shirt from falling off of her again.

"Brienne, listen..." He looked into her eyes that were still burning in green.

 _I'm going to kill Bronn..._   _What could I say? I cannot do it while she's still on that bloody liqueur._

In the meantime Brienne started to unfasten his breeches and began to plant sweet kisses starting down from his chest.

 _Why do the gods hate me?_  Why do they have to give him everything he wanted, just after he'd realized how unworthy he is of them.

Before she could have reached the more sensitive areas, Jaime gently put his left hand on her shoulder and pulled her up.

"Did I do something wrong...?" Brienne asked. "I've heard women would sometimes do this to men for their pleasure."

Jaime looked at her, almost startled at how sweet she was.  _How is she even real?_

He took a step closer and pet her cheek. "No, not at all" he said with a sad smile. "Listen, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why don't you want me?"

Her tone was so insulted, so accusing, Jaime had to bite his fist not to burst out the truth.  _I mustn't do this now. She has to be sober. She has to understand why I have no choice._

"Brienne, listen... you must be really tired. Why don't you let me put you into your bed?"

He embraced her, trying to lead her out the room, but Brienne wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm not tired and I don't want to go to sleep." She pursed her lips to kiss him. "I want you."

 _Well, no more than I want you._  

"... You know what I think? I think you've drunk too much" Jaime said, changing his tactic.

"NO!"

"Yes, you have. The Brienne I know wouldn't show up in my chamber late at night without any smallclothes" he said with a mocking smile, but it turned out as an own goal, her reaction made him love her even more - if that was possible. Brienne shook her head childishly.

"No! I never drink at all. Wine tastes like horse piss."

Jaime repressed his smile. "All right, I'm not going to ask how do you know what horse piss tastes like. Come here."

He pulled her into his arms and lifted her.

"You can sleep in my bed for one night, but just in case you promise me you'll behave."

"I don't want to sleep!" Brienne sulked as Jaime gently put her down on his blankets.

He sat down next to her. She didn't understand why his eyes were so sad when he answered.

"Well... hasn't your father told you that you cannot always get what you want?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Rolling Stones playing in the background


	10. Those three words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even more sad fluff. Morning after Part I. Alternate version.
> 
> "You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell; what I mean is, that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me."  
> /Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have said this already, but please forgive me for all the grammar mistakes.

Jaime Lannister knew what a fool he must have seemed like. The woman he loved was laying in his bed, naked as her name day and he was standing there, doing nothing. Other men would probably have to have incredible self-control not to take advantage of the situation... _but other men probably wouldn't put anything into the drink of their beloved lady in the first place. I am not like other men_ , Jaime thought bitterly.

 _There are no men like me. Only me_ , he told Catelyn Stark after the battle in the Whispering Wood. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He had trouble believing that _that_ man in Stark's chains with his one and only desire to get back to Cersei was him. That man didn't care about the war that broke out because of him. That man didn't care about glory, honour, himself. He only had one god. Cersei. And he was willing to do anything for her... He remembered the night after he visited Lancel at Darry. The night after he learnt that Tyrion told him the truth.

_Lancel, Osmund Kettleblack and even Moonboy for all I know._

Gods, how much he suffered because of these words. And for what? If he had actually taken a look at the woman he called his love, he would have stopped caring about whom she fucked once and for all. _Lancel was probably the smallest of her sins._

That night at Darry he began to see clearly. He saw all the ways how Cersei used him. How she asked him to find Arya Stark after the girl's wolf had attacked Joffrey. And he was willing to kill the girl for her.  _Had I found her before the Stark soldiers had..._ he said as he was getting new bruises from Ilyn Payne.

 _The things I would have done for love._ Except that love wasn't for a real woman. Merely an illusion. Jaime loved the sweet, charming girl who never existed. Whose place was taken by the Mad Queen.

_She lied to me, yes, but I'd been lying to myself for twenty years. She used me, but my sin is much bigger for I consciously turned a blind eye to who she was._

She was always the Stranger, not the Maid and deep down that bearded, beaten man in the Stark camp knew it too. His sins were his only. Why is there no punishment for choosing to be blind?

There were times, not even long ago, when Jaime wanted to slap that man who wore his name. Tell him to wake up. There were times when he thought he lived a wrong life because of Cersei. But it wasn't her. _I chose that life._ _There wouldn't be hope for me even if I had realised it back then._

It was not long before Brienne fell asleep. As soon as Jaime blew out the candle her eyes closed. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Tarth? Her childhood? Her mother? It didn't matter. She was away. Out of this filthy world where she didn't belong. _She needs to be protected. Even from me... especially from me._  

He couldn't get it out of his head the way he rushed their first kiss. _Her first kiss._ Jaime covered his eyes with his hand. The way he kissed her. The way he knew his touches were too rough. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

_What if I don't look into her eyes? What if I don't remember the liqueur? Would I have done it? Take her maidenhead?_

He didn't need answer to his question, it was enough knowing that he was capable of doing it. _I was willing to do it. Without making sure she knows why._ _Without telling her I love her._ Jaime clutched his head. _I forgot to say it._  

He looked back on everything that happened after Brienne stepped into his chamber. He tried to evoke all the things he said. _I love you_ wasn't there. Those three words would have sounded so hollow, pathetically meaningless compared to the emotion they ought to have expressed in his case, still the lack of them hurt him more than anything he did that night. Because he knew that now he couldn't ever say it. She didn't know what was the most important. That it was more than attraction. That Jaime didn't just want her like that wildling. That he would have wanted more than just a night. He wanted her soul too. That he loved her. And she didn't know. _Now it will remain unsaid._

 _It's for the better. What has never been said cannot hurt her. Why do you want her to cry for you when you must leave? What does it matter when you cannot be together?_  

Jaime squatted down next to his bed. Brienne was sleeping on her stomach with her arms pulled under her shoulders, her head tilted to the side. Jaime leaned so close his forehead was less than an inch away from her mouth. He was studying her face, his heart as heavy as lead, knowing this is his last chance to do so. Her features were so peaceful, relaxed, almost angelic, it was both delight and pain for Jaime to look at her. She would have deserved to be like this her whole life. Maybe now is not too late. _Just for me. She has a whole life in front of her._

She was still young, and now she seemed even younger. She reminded him of Myrcella. The same innocence and chastity. Both too good for this world. _Too good for me._ Her mangled cheek was covered by the night, the bruises and scars got softened as well. Those were of his making too. _It was Biter who teared her skin apart, but without me she wouldn't have been there. I sent her on a deadly mission._ Had she been less lucky, her blood would be on his hands too. _I gave her my sword and just like that I thought it would be all right._ A Lannister sword... as if back then the roads weren't dangerous enough without getting the attention of the haters of his family. _She could have died just because of my order._  

Her lips parted and sweet little wafts flew towards Jaime from her mouth to mend his heart and break it again. Brienne seemed lovelier than ever. She was a beauty. She was a knight. And not just in that light.

Jaime lifted his hand carefully as if he was about to touch a masterpiece that should only be admired from a step behind. Initially he just wanted to sweep back her hair that fell into her eyes, but he couldn't resist the temptation and put his hand on her cheek. She was warm.

"Jaime" Brienne's lips formed his name, her eyes still closed.

Jaime didn't move. He wanted to take his hand off of her cheek, but he couldn't. _This might be the last time I get to touch her._

In the next second he felt Brienne's hand on his.

"Don't leave" she said pressing his hand on her face.

Jaime froze. He didn't know if Brienne was talking in her dream or reading his mind, either way he didn't have enough strength to disobey her order. What is honour compared to a woman's love?

He leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead. _Goodbye, Brienne._ This time there will be no words. No gazing at each other. No turning away. No tears in her eyes. Jaime feared that he wouldn't bear the sight of them and back out. He knew that one chin wobble of Brienne was enough to make him forget about everything, stay where he was and live with her for the rest of their lives. _That mustn't happen_ , he thought, even though he wanted nothing more. But what he wanted didn't matter. He had to do the right thing at least once in his wretched life.

But apparently the Brienne in his bed wanted something else. When he tried to get back on his feet she wrapped her arms around his neck peremptorily. Jaime was reminded once again how strong she was.

"Come here" she whispered half-awake, half-dreaming. "Stay with me."

Jaime's heavy sigh slit the air.  _Father, give me strength_. 

Brienne's arms were stronger than his resistance, but still so light compared to his guilt. 

Still holding Brienne's face he knelt up and layed down next to her. There wasn't enough place for a needle between their bodies. Facing her, he leaned his forehead against hers.  _Can't I just die now...? In the arms of the woman I love._ Everything would have been easier.

Jaime listened to her breathing and watched as her eyelids moved. It all felt so new to him in a beautifully endearing way. With Cersei he had never done this. Their rushed trysts didn't last longer than a few minutes and once the lust was gone they had to turn their backs on each other and head into opposite directions. But with Brienne... He wanted to stop the time so that they could stay like this forever. _There are no seven heavens,_ Jaime thought. _This is the only one._ Brienne's arms rested on his shoulders, Jaime's fingers were carressing the pink skin under her jaw and for a few hours everything was well in the world.

 

* * *

 

The first rays of the morning sun fell on Brienne's waist. She felt her skin burn where they reached her. Without opening her eyes her hand slided there. It took her a few seconds to realise she was naked. Her eyes shut wide open. But what she saw after that was an even bigger surprise.

A hand rested on her bare waist. Someone's left hand. Brienne froze in shock. _Where am I?_

For a good minute she didn't dare to move her gaze. She was deathly afraid to find out to whom did that hand belong. Her breath got stuck when she saw Jaime's head next to her on the pillow.

 _Oh, no._ She tried to evoke what happened last night and everything came to her mind within a second, but she refused to accept it as the truth. She shivered as the things she said echoed in her head. _I wanted you to kiss me._

 _No, no, no, no._ I wouldn't have said that. I wouldn't have done that. Those acts were so not like her that for a moment she was convinced that it was just a dream. But then how did she end up here?

She didn't dare to move. She didn't dare to blink. This simply wasn't possible.

 _I must be dreaming now too. Yes. I just need to close my eyes and wake myself up._ She tried. But every time she opened her eyes, Jaime was still there with slightly parted lips, his good hand casually wrapped around her waist. His hand moved as her body lifted while she inhaled, his calloused fingertips brushed against her skin. Now she couldn't close her eyes even if she wanted to. And soon enough she didn't want to.

The sight of Jaime's half-naked body caught her eyes. She was fascinated by how soft his golden skin looked, despite the bruises and the half-healed wounds that failed at spoiling the beauty of the man. Almost unconsciously her hand reached out, but just as she was about to touch him, she realised what she was doing and immediately felt ashamed of it. Her heart was beating in her ears as she saw Jaime's eyes sprang open.

She was so confused she even forgot to pull the blanket on herself. For half a minute they were looking into each other's eyes silently. Both of their tongues were too heavy to break the silence. One of them was bound with the questions it didn't dare to ask, the other's with the truth it would have to deny.

 


	11. Say My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after Part II. The culmination of the insecurities of JB. Awkwardness.
> 
> "Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,  
> Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;  
> She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,  
> For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! "  
> /John Keats/

The little grains of dust were dancing in the dawn light that spilled through the open window of Jaime Lannister's chamber. The people in the capital were still sleeping. The heavy breathing of Jaime and Brienne was the only noise that could be heard in miles.

"Jaime" Brienne wanted to say but she was unsure if it was appropiate. She recalled she had said it a dozen times during the night but now it would be different. For some reason she thought he might not remember what happened. 

 _Or worse, what if it was indeed just a dream. Worse?,_ she caught herself on her own thought. _So you want it to be the truth? That you shamelessly threw yourself at Jaime Lannister?_ said the voice in her head, the voice of her septa that never forgot to remind her what an ugly girl she was. The ugliest in the Seven Kingdoms, who could never be loved. _You dare to think that all of that actually happened?_ the voice scolded her. _That a man like him could want a wench like you._ These words always cut to her quick and prevailed over her, but this time they were outshone by the vivid image of Jaime pressing her against the wall, by the sound of their lips crashing together, by the touch of Jaime's demanding hold all over her body. But mostly by the tickling sensation she felt over the fact that she was actually  _wanted._ By Jaime Lannister.

"Jaime" a thousand thoughts swirled in her head, but she was ashamed to even phrase them. She was ashamed in front of herself. In front of her septa. Like she was ashamed to call him _just_ Jaime out loud. This was so stupid. He always called her _just_ Brienne, except once when he added 'Lady' but that was just to make fun of her. Why was it suddenly so difficult when last night's Brienne wasn't even ashamed to offer herself to him?

Probably because she wasn't the same person as last night's Brienne. It felt like as if it happened in another world. A world where she is not intimidated by the voices in her head, where she's not afraid to say what she wants. A world where Ronnet Connington and the bet placed on her virginity were merely bad nightmares. A world where she was both a fair maiden and a great warrior who brought pride to her father's name. It was a wonderful world. But here she was again in what seemed to be the reality, where she was ugly and mannish and deathly afraid of being rejected.

"Jaime" it seemed like the only possible way to break the silence, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. It would mean that last night really happened and that would change everything. It would mean that she acknowledges what she did, that she rushed into his room almost naked, that she kissed him and what was even more unbelievable - that he kissed her back. And that would have been a lie, because it wasn't her who kissed Jaime and it wasn't her whom Jaime kissed. She couldn't fathom who was that woman who looked exactly like her.

 _Maybe the best would be if it was indeed a dream._ Brienne wished she could turn back time and sneak out of Jaime's bed without him noticing. Then they could forget about whatever this was and go on denying their feelings.

 _Well, at least me. Not like Jaime has anything to deny_ , thought the Brienne from this reality but then she reckoned Jaime's ragged breathing as he couldn't tear himself away from her lips.

Brienne shook her head while still holding Jaime's gaze. She was so tortured over her insecurity and torn between wanting to jump into Jaime's arms and trying to come off as indifferent that she was ready to burst into tears at any moment. 

He might have seen her struggle because he decided to put her out of her misery and break the silence himself. Only that Jaime didn't have the slightest idea about what to say either.

"...Brienne" she was looking at his lips while he was forming her name. Then into his eyes. To her surprise he looked almost distressed as if he'd just defeated himself with that one word.

Brienne struggled with herself... but alas the bad memories are always stronger than the good ones.

"...Ser Jaime." 

And that was it. Jaime's heart grew heavier than Robert's war hammer. At once it felt like they became separated by an invisible wall. Just like that they were back to whatever they were before he had the terrible idea to trust Bronn with his love life. _Back to denial._ As if they'd lost their innocence, suddenly they became very aware of their nakedness. Brienne quickly slipped out of the bed and began searching for her gown that layed under the table. Jaime watched her with watery eyes.

 _Good thing we always need a potion to be honest with each other_ , he thought bitterly.

He didn't know what was worse, having to turn down Brienne's advances or seeing the idyll of the past few hours fade away and be pushed back to reality. He looked at her as she was trying to put her arm into the right hole of the gown. _She doesn't remember anything._   _Isn't this what you wanted?_ , he asked himself. _That it would be easier for her this way. There you have it. She won't remember anything. I should be glad_ , he thought while his heart was growing even heavier as he felt the distance grow between them.

 _Or maybe she thinks it was a dream. Why not? We both dreamt the same,_ he thought bitterly. It sounded cheesy enough. Let her believe that. _People always dream of things they cannot have._ Did his mother say this?

Had somebody looked through Jaime Lannister's window that morning, he would have seen the most absurd scene. Two people who were irretrievably in love with the other, trying to hide it. Two people who both knew what they almost did last night using all their efforts to deny it because of the other. Two half-naked lovers playing strangers.

They avoided the other's gaze for it was easier this way.

"We..."Brienne started after a long silence, but she didn't have enough courage to continue.

"Nothing happened" pealed Jaime's voice. He was looking down at the rug.

Brienne didn't understand. _Nothing. Why is he saying this? Does he think I don't remember? Does he think I was drunk?_ What if she was indeed? No, the last thing she drank was water. The same glass of water she drank every night before going to sleep.

She wanted to shout at Jaime and ask him if making out on his table naked is nothing, but she was afraid from her demons. She feared that if she said it out loud the men from Renly's camp would appear and laugh at her naiveté for believing somebody would ever want to lay with her without a bet. She was horribly afraid this would turn out to be a joke at her expense. _Please not this time._

Before she gathered herself to say something, she heard the floor crack under someone's feet.

"Good morning, love birds!"

It was Bronn.

His smile took over his whole face and made him look a lot friendlier than Brienne would have ever assumed him to be.

He stepped to her, took her hand in his and kissed it.

"You needn't thank me, my lady. I was merely the catalyst" he said with a wink.

Brienne looked over to Jaime, her eyes widened in utter confusion.

Jaime pinched the edge of his nose and said in such a frightening voice Brienne had never heard him speak:

"Get. the. hell. out of here. Now."

Judging by the way he looked, Bronn didn't understand either.

"What?" he said with a bewildered face. "You ought to be blowing me kisses for this."

At least this is what Brienne thought he wanted to say, but before he could have finished Jaime's fist crashed into his jaw.

He stumbled and almost fell, but in the last second he got hold of the table.

"I think I'm going to go now" Jaime heard Brienne's voice. "I..I should..." she stuttered moving towards the door, too baffled to make a proper excuse. The heavy oak door shut behind her.

"What the fuck was that?" Bronn shouted while petting his jaw. "Did you get your moonblood or what?"

Jaime went to the bed and put on his shirt that was on Brienne a few minutes ago. Bronn probably said something else too, most likely another insulting reproach about his behaviour, but he didn't pay attention. His shirt smelled like Brienne.

"Are you even listening to me?" he heard his voice.

"Tell my squire to ready my horse."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. do you hate me yet? :D


	12. End It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is so down. Little bit of bromance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK this is more of an interlude than a real chapter, hopefully the next will be ready soon.  
> Apologies that the story moves this slow, but I felt like I had to focus on Jaime's feelings and the reasons behind his actions. Next chapter should kick things into motion.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Bronn was following him down the stairs, out of the Red Keep. Jaime didn't know where he was heading. He just wanted to be away. But from what he didn't know. Brienne? Last night? Most likely himself. Since the night Brienne appeared at his door he had been hating himself with the most torrid rancour he'd ever felt. In one moment he felt that whatever he did he got punished gravely enough by having to break himself away from what he could have had. In the next his suffering seemed pathetically little compared to what he'd deserve. His judgment became so biased that with his twisted mind the things he did and will have to do against the woman he loved seemed incomparably worse than anything he had done in his life. No matter how many lives he'd ended, a million of them wasn't enough to match up to the sorrow he will cause to Brienne. One imaginary teardrop of her made him forget about all the blood that was shed because of him. And for this he craved punishment like a beggar thirts for water.

He was angry at the gods who made Brienne, the purest thing in the world return the affections of a man like him. It wasn't fair. _I will suffer, but please don't let her._ It was almost a prayer, though he didn't know to whom he could pray. If there were gods and if they were just, he should be dead long ago.

"At least tell me what happened for fuck's sake!"

Jaime was suffocating. He wanted to go back and burn his chamber down to ashes, but seconds after he was repelled at his own thought and felt an irresistable urge to save everything Brienne had touched there. He couldn't get her face out of his head, her face when he told her that "nothing happened".  _I lied straight to her face._ It was only a fragment of a second before Bronn interrupted them, but her features became engraved into his mind. Her bright blue eyes glittered in confusion and despair, her thick lips parted and she inhaled as her shoulders shook a little, just enough to notice. An outsider would have probably thought that she was simply shivering because of the cool morning air that came through the open window. Jaime felt like he was punched in the gut as the realisation kicked in.

 _She remembers everything._ _And I just denied it to her face_. The memory of the moment still made him want to sob. It was only him who could know the significance and the enormity of this bestial lie. _What have I done?_  The night after the ball he realised how strong her insecurities are, how tall is the wall she had built not to get hurt again. How hard it is for her to believe that someone could love her. And now he denied it all.

 _If someone, I should have known, but I disowned her instead._ _I pushed her away and spat on her struggles._

Jaime wanted to go back in time and tell her that everything she remembered was the truth, tell her he loved her and that night really happened, tell her he needed all his strength to lay next to her all night and not try anything. Then he would tell her he has to leave for her own good, but he'll always love her. _A real man would have done that._ But in this world where the gods weren't just, she didn't get a real man. Just Jaime Lannister.

 _What made me so foolish to think lying would be better? You wanted to make it easier for her, spare her suffering,_  he answered to himself.  _But what good has your good will brought her?_ He tried to imagine how Brienne felt now. _She probably thinks she is mad for daring to believe our kisses. Will she believe any man now? Will she let her guard down for someone who deserves it? Or have I spoiled all hope of happiness for her?_

Brienne's shirt was burning his skin.

He took two stair risers at a time. Faster, faster. He had no idea where he was going.  _It doesn't matter as long as I find my doom there._ He was so sick of himself, not just because of the things he'd done but those he was about to do. All his thoughts sounded repelling in his head, all his movements felt false. _How did I come to this?_ He almost wished the war hadn't ended, so he could just go to the battlefield and wait until a lost arrow puts him out of his misery. 

"Jaime Lannister!" As if Bronn heard what he was thinking he caught his collar and forced Jaime to face him. "You won't take another step until you start speaking."

Jaime looked at him. His jaw was already turning purple. _I shouldn't have done it._ _It wasn't his fault. But I couldn't punch myself and he was the only one around._ He studied his face and the eyes that were fixed on him. _He really does care about me. Poor man, he wanted to help me gods know why, and this is how I payed for it._

He put his good hand on Bronn's shoulder. For a few seconds he just looked at him, much to his surprise his soul could find some rest while he was looking into his pleasantly blue eyes.

"It's all right. I'm sorry I hit you."

Bronn became even more worried by his strangely calm words and absent gaze. He shook Jaime a little as if he was trying to shake an answer out of him.

"What are you doing?!" he sounded angry and caring at the same time.

Jaime sighed. He was too tired of it to start everything from the beginning. But most importantly, he was tired of himself.

"I know you wanted good" Jaime said with a sad smile, his hand still on Bronn's shoulder. "I'm thankful for everything ...mainly for the pig ...and I must admit you have a gorgeous singing voice."

Bronn frowned anxiously. His voice was almost soft when he asked:

"What is wrong, Jaime?"

Jaime didn't know what to say. What is the short version of that he'd rather cut his other hand off just to prevent Brienne from ending up with a man like him? 

Bronn broke the silence before he could have figured out what to say. Jaime saw real concern in his eyes.

"She loves you, you know."

Jaime closed his eyes and smiled. His face was pain to look at. Tears were choking his throat, tears that he failed to swallow this time.

"...Sometimes love is not enough."

 


	13. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's uncertain where to go. Resolution happens.
> 
> "I love you like all mortals love living  
> until they die."  
> /Attila József: Ode/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, real life kicked in, but at least it's a long chapter. I hope it will be somewhat satisfying :)

Ever since he parted from Bronn Jaime was wandering on the streets of King's Landing like a sleep-walker. He didn't know where he could go, he forgot to plan ahead. One place was just as bad as the other. At one moment it was clear that he could go anywhere that was far enough from Brienne... but in the next, he saw it just as clearly that he couldn't go anywhere that was far from her. 

Jaime had fallen out of time and space. His head was empty, but not like that of a newborn baby who just came to the world pure and careless. Under the surface of emptiness there lay the terrible certainty that without her all hope of happiness was lost for him. He couldn't fathom how he hadn't realized it until now, that ever since he met her again at Winterfell it was Brienne who kept him going, who was his only perspective. That without her, his goals didn't matter at all. Without her, everything lost its importance. That there was not a single thing he would have rather told anyone but her, not one he would rather do with someone else. Everything he did was done to make her smile and things only carried meaning when she was around.

He was never home at King's Landing, he only wanted to be there so he could be near Cersei. How ridiculous it sounded. So many years spent in vain. _Where do I belong now?_

Tyrion came to his mind, the only one left of his family. His brother was currently away from his queen, dealing with the affairs of Casterly Rock.

He changed a lot since he married Sansa for the second time. He had shaved off his beard and it surprised Jaime how young he looked without it. There were only eight years between them, though it seemed more at that time. Jaime's golden hair had already started to turn grey, especially on his temple, whereas Tyrion's once so ugly tuft of hair became almost appealing. Thanks to the Essosi sun the black strands had bleached while the blond straws had darkened, it made them look like different rays of the sun. The eyesore of a scar on his face had almost healed over the years, pink skin flowered over the wounds. _Peace becomes him._

Who would have thought? It seemed just as unlikely as the notion that a marriage between his brother and Sansa Stark could be happy. An outsider would have probably said that such a pairing was doomed to be a disaster from day one, even Jaime thought so. But when he saw them sitting side by side at their wedding table they looked so natural together. Harmony, that was the best word to describe them. Jaime remembered how Tyrion's mismatched eyes were smiling at his wife when she stood up to receive the regards with a slight blush on her pretty face. Who would have thought that the voluptuary little man at Winterfell's brothel and that peachy, naive girl who seemed superficial to Jaime had anything in common?

It was odd to see Tyrion like that, as a loving husband next to his wife. His women were mostly whores, not beautiful damsels, except that one who was a bit of both. That was his sin, too.

Jaime tried to remember what Tysha looked like, but he couldn't evoke her face. Just a regular peasant girl's figure came to his mind without facial features. _A peasant girl, a crofter's daughter, a lie Father commanded me to tell. I_ _s this marriage any better than that one?,_  he thought as he was tossing the meat in his mouth.

Tyrion told him that with Tysha they had pigs as witnesses and the septon was too drunk to name all the seven gods. Did Tysha look as beautiful and slender as the Wolf Queen? _For Tyrion, maybe. Nothing could make a woman more beautiful than the beholder's love for her._ Jaime reckoned Tysha was only a bit younger than Sansa at that time. _They were but children. Maybe it was a flash in the pan, nothing more. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Goldenhand, if it eases your conscience._

He was happy to see his brother like that, even more so that he had thought he could never truly love a woman after Tysha. There was another feeling waking in his heart as he was looking at them exchanging glances. Envy. Desire to have the same. A second chance. Not honour, not glory, just love.

Jaime didn't know how he had got in front of the Great Sept of Baelor. Or rather what was left of it. Sansa had made efforts to start the restoration, but at the moment the Crown didn't have enough money to spare on fixing his sister's destruction. It looked scarcely the same as it was when Jaime arrived in the capital after taking Riverrun. He was so stupid to think that it was only the Blackfish's resistance standing between him and Cersei. That if he had taken it back, he could return to her and be the Warrior to his Maid. He was a fool to think she needed him at all.

 _I rode in like a groom comes to his bride._ He had to laugh at that thought. 

The explosion made it more or less even with the ground. Only some parts of the underground sept on which King Baelor built his own stayed intact. That's where Cersei commanded to bury Tommen, next to his brother and sister.

Jaime couldn't really tell why he was walking down the stairs into the crypt. He needed an answer that maybe the dead could provide. He had no torch, he needed none. The darkness was matching his soul.

The thought of him visiting his children in their dead seemed grotesque considering how little he had dealt with them in their life. _A whole realm pitied them for having lost their father so early, when in truth their real father denied them before their birth._

He sat down in front of the graves on the cold brick. His Lord Father was buried there too, but this time it was not him for whom he came. _Are you disappointed, Father? Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to talk._

Having a dead father was not a curiosity for a man of his age, but three dead children... _Aren't I special?_

Jaime wondered whether they'd still be alive if he looked after them, or were they doomed for their parent's sins from their first breath? Had I knocked some sense into Joffrey, if I escaped with Myrcella right away, if I stopped Cersei sooner... But these were all just ifs which would still remain theories even if he could start his life all over. If he could go back in time, they wouldn't even be born.

 _What am I doing here?_ _Pretending to mourn when I didn't even know them._ He never wanted to bother himself with a father's problems anyway. Not until it was too late.

He might have forgotten Myrcella's face, but he would never forget what he felt as she looked at him.

 _I am glad... that you're my father._ His body shook, still hearing her intonation. _Did that really happen or was it just a dream?_ It was so unreal that it might have only happened in his head. _She knew it. And she was glad._

That was the first time one of his children called him father, the first time he wanted to be a father. He felt so unworthy of the name and in that moment all he desired was to earn it. He mourned the years that he had wasted, and he wanted nothing more than a chance to make up for them, so he could proudly claim this sweet, lovely fairy to be her daughter.

_She was too good, too gentle... Any man would have been happy to be her father. What a shame she only got me._

"Jaime" somebody whispered his name.

Jaime closed his eyes. He knew who it was without having to look back.

For a few seconds, he didn't move. He wanted to enjoy every tiny bit of this moment before it would fade away.

"Brienne" he whispered back with a smile on his face. It was her indeed, though he could scarcely see her for the darkness covered most of her figure. The blue eyes were fixed on him worriedly, yet with a calm firmness, Jaime hadn't seen in them for a while. She was probably waiting for him to say something, give some explanation as to why he was there in the crypt, but Jaime was so carried away by her presence he didn't feel the need to say anything. He even forgot to wonder how Brienne knew he was there. At last, she broke the silence.

"Bronn told me everything."

An absent-minded smile took over Jaime's face. He dropped his gaze.

"Really? Even about the liqueur?"

"Especially about that."

He should have expected this. He should have known that Bronn would tell her... As if her knowing would change anything.

"Have you come to curse me or to forgive me?"

She looked like an angel as she answered after a brief silence."Neither. I want to love you."

"Neither. I want to love you."

Jaime looked up at her. Her eyes were scorching his soul. He couldn't look into them for long.

"No, you don't want that."

_So this is the time. She will understand. She has to._

His voice scared Brienne when he started to speak.

"Have you been down here, yet? Here lay my children, Brienne... other children are playing outside now, but mine are here, resting."

Brienne didn't know what to make of his strange jovial tone. But she felt sorry for his losses from the bottom of her heart.

"I'm sorry, Jaime."

"Don't be. Their mother was mad and they never had a father."

"It's not your fault."

Her voice was so quiet, only Jaime could hear her.

"No?" Jaime's voice was all the louder and even more careless than a second ago. He sounded as if he was drunk. "I never cared about them. Well, Joffrey was a prick, but the others... Tommen was a good kid and Myrcella..." his voice stumbled. "She would be a grown maiden now, but her eyes... her eyes would be the same. The same bright, honest eyes... Funny... that sometimes I can't remember her face and I wonder how she would look now."

He laughed and Brienne froze.

"I know it's weird" he continued with a brooding smile on his face "but for some time... I've been thinking she'd look like you."

"Jaime..." he heard her soft, pitiful voice as she took a step closer.

"Shorter, of course. But with your eyes... I wish you could have known her. She would have deserved to have someone like you."

Brienne put a hand on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't think about the past. It is ov-"

"Tell me, by what law is it just that I live and she's dead??" he inquired with such passion that it scared her. "Please tell me, Brienne, I have to know."

Brienne felt the pain radiating from his eyes and she would have given her life to help him, but she didn't know the answer. Who could have?

Her voice was full of the Mother's mercy as she spoke.

"Her death wasn't your fault. Nor was Tommen's. You couldn't have saved them... Let go of the past, Jaime. The war is over."

She put another hand on Jaime's shoulder, but he twitched at her touch.

"You don't understand! I started the war."

Suddenly he stood up to face her with an awkward look in his eyes that made Brienne want to step back. His voice was that of a man who  united his most honest traits with the foulest manner of speaking to confess his sins.

"I've been wondering for so long if you knew about it, you must have..."

He was stepping closer and closer, but Brienne didn't move a muscle.

"When you met her Catelyn Stark must have spoken about his little boy who fell out the tower right away" his breath was caressing the skin of her neck. "Well, more like about how _I_ pushed him out."

The last words he poured into her ear, expecting she'd back off, but when he moved back he saw that her eyes displayed the same compassionate worry they expressed from the moment he saw them in the dark. 

 _She knew it._ He was certain she would, yet a thousand stones fell off his heart, but it was just the first seal.

_Everything, she has to know about everything._

"I hated the moment I did it. But I kept telling myself that I had good reason for it, when in fact - I didn't."

The foul smile appeared on his face again. Brienne shook her head.

"No! Stop this."

"What? You don't like hearing the truth, Brienne of Tarth?"

 _Why is he talking like this?_ With the mask on. It was before he lost his sword hand to Zollo's blade that she heard this voice for the last time. _Why is he speaking to me as if I was a stranger?_

"This is not the truth."

"You don't know me. You haven't the slightest idea of what I'm capable of."

Brienne couldn't decide if he was talking to a lover or an enemy. His eyes were shining feverishly clinging on her own, desperately eager to be judged.

"No. I know about Bran. I knew it before I met you. I know what you did." After a little hesitation, she added, "...and I love you."

Jaime twitched as if her words caused him physical pain. His gorgeous face became distorted and his voice froze Brienne's blood in her veins.

"Stop saying this."

_She loves the man who leaped into the bear pit for her, she loves the man who took Riverrun without bloodshed. Had she known the other one...had they met earlier...nobody could love that man. Even Cersei couldn't. Everything, she has to know everything._

"Jaime..."

Her eyes were worried and confused. He wanted nothing more than to earn this gaze. He stepped closer and touched Brienne's cheek. He could have said something nice, could have kissed her, but instead he decided to say the cruel truth.

"Every time you look at me like this, so pure, so honest...", teary eyed he smirked, his soul shivering under her gaze's weight "every time you look at me... I want to jump out of my skin. Because I am not the person you're looking at."

Brienne's lips parted and tears appeared in her eyes. Before he could have said something, Jaime turned away.

"You know what I was doing when he climbed on that tower?" he asked with a vile smile. "You know why I pushed him, don't you?"

Brienne was already crying.

"Stop it...Jaime. I know" she begged him, falling down on the bricks. 

Jaime bent down to look at her. Their faces were a hair's breadth away.

"Of course, you know, but I want to hear you say it..." he grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "Come on, Brienne", he said. "Say it! What?! I cannot hear you. Don't be afraid, there are only my children here and they know it anyway." 

"Stop!" Brienne sobbed as she pushed him away.

"What did you say? Yes, you're right, Brienne. I was fucking my sister! Don't you have something to say about this? We never discussed that anyway."

Brienne was weeping softly and Jaime could hear her desperate whisper "Why are you doing this?". But he couldn't go back now.

_Everything, she has to know about everything._

He looked down and remained silent for a minute. When he started to speak again, his voice was different.

"I didn't want to push him. But I had to... At least that is what I told myself. That if I hadn't done it, Cersei and the children would have been killed. That it was the only way to protect my family" he shook his head. "A lie. I didn't think of the children. They meant nothing more to me than a bit of seed in Cersei's cunt. I could have figured something out, I could have scared him. I just chose the easy way."

"He could have still told someone", said Brienne. "....You did a terrible thing, Jaime, but there was no good choice."

Jaime turned to her.

"Still...I know that _you_ wouldn't have done it. I know, Brienne."

He was crying and Brienne was crying with him. 

He quickly continued, and Brienne wanted to close her ears when he heard his frenzied tone again. "But who gives a shit about Bran anyway? Even more so, that he survived. Let's talk about something else. I bet you didn't know that I almost got you killed too."

That was too much for her. _Maybe he's ill, maybe he has a fever._

"What are you talking about?"

Jaime was circling around her like a madman.

"I bet you thought the reason why I gave you Oathkeeper was that 'I was finally becoming a good man'. An... honourable man. Well, I hate to disappoint you. You know why I gave you that bloody sword?"

Brienne knew she shouldn't have listened to him, but curiosity, confusion and most of all love stopped her from going away. 

"Because for once in my wretched life I wanted to act like I had honour! I wanted people to know that the Kingslayer gave you his Valyrian steel sword to save the Stark girls. I imagined them thinking 'he's not such a bad guy after all. Let's call him Goldenhand. Goldenhand, the Just!'"

Jaime felt dizzy. Every word he uttered was true then, or so he thought, yet now it sounded like a pathetic attempt of a lie even to him. 

 _Finally, I'm confessing, and even now I'm sounding like a liar._ Maybe it was only part of the truth. He wanted to get recognition, yes, he did want to wash off his name, but maybe the honour part was true, after all...

Brienne looked at him rigidly, not moving a finger. Jaime continued.

"You thought I cared for the Stark girls?" he let out an awkward laugh. "You must have never heard the story of how I almost killed Arya to please my sister. And then I sent you after them... Catelyn Stark would surely appreciate the irony. Poor, naive Brienne, did you really think I gave a fuck about them?"

Brienne's slap stung his cheek, but Jaime was relieved. _Finally._

"Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?" she asked through the curtain of her tears. "What did you want with that liqueur in the first place?? To know how I feel about you just to push me away? You think you get to decide what is best for me?" 

She was shaking. With every word she felt more and more naked, exposing all the feelings she was hiding for years. 

"If it's true that you wanted to know if I loved you, then... now you know" she admitted blushing. "Why run away? Why don't you believe Bronn's potion? Why don't you believe me when I say..."

"Because no one could ever ever love me!"

"Because no one could ever ever love me!"

His voice echoed over the graves.

It was the roar of the Lannister Lion, the lament of the Kingslayer, the sigh of someone named Jaime.

This was the first time in the past days when he let himself say the truth. Everything was there in that cry he dreamed and thought about of late. The dead Lord Tywin's warning. The mockery of Cersei's ghost. The tears of Selwyn Tarth frozen under his eyes. Was this the reason they appeared? Probably. For how could the Beauty ever truly love a Beast?

_You are a Lannister, that is all you would ever be._

_Do you really think you could love her after me?_

_The purest girl in the world marrying a Lannister..._

So this was the core of all this. 

Jaime turned away from her, afraid he'd already said too much. _What have you done?_

This wasn't the way he planned this. _Why didn't I answer that I'm too old for her and beyond repair, I could have said that it's all for the best and soon she'll find someone else, all the shallow clichés could have been better, why the truth?_  

Maybe because he didn't want her to find anyone else... because if his plan worked he might as well stay in this crypt forever.

Brienne's mouth had fallen open. Never had she felt sorry for Jaime so much. _Of the two of us he's the one who thinks he can't be loved? Really? Him? We had been wrong for so long, and it was the same demon whispering in our ears._  

Brienne's confusion was blown away like dry leaves at the first touch of the autumn's fingers. She came for an answer and now she knew everything she needed. She walked up to Jaime who was still facing her with his back.

Her voice was as steady as her arms that caught him in the Harrenhal tub.

"I could play along if you want... I can be repelled and call you a monster. After all, this is what you wanted with this, isn't it? Just say it, and I will... But I don't want that. And I dare to say I know that you don't really want that either. Just say so if I'm wrong."

She waited a few seconds, but Jaime didn't say a thing. He already knew in that little nook of his heart that he's not going anywhere.

Brienne continued.

"I am not your judge, Jaime. No living person can be. And I don't think you care about them... not really. The real judges are inside you. I don't know how much you've suffered because of them or how much you'll make me suffer, but I don't care."

Her hands were sweating and she didn't know what it was that made her lips form the words, she didn't fathom she would ever say. She was speaking out of some strange feverish rapture, that made her forget about who she was supposed to be, forget about that her words sounded nothing like what she would normally deem 'appropriate'. Brienne didn't know if this would be their last conversation or the beginning of something new, but she had to say it either way. She felt she owed Jaime this, no matter what happens next. There was one thing she was sure of and she had to make sure he knew it, that finding him in all this... that was everything.  

"And people will whisper, yes, because the Maid of Tarth loves the Kingslayer and because Jaime Lannister fell in love with the homeliest woman in Westeros... but see, I couldn't care less of what they think for _we_ know the truth. Because _I_ know that you _are_ a good man, Jaime Lannister, and I won't ever let you forget it!"

She was so heated she didn't notice that water was leaking from her eyes until she saw her reflection in Jaime's. He had the same thing going on, but these weren't tears, just pawns of two people finally accepting their chance for happiness. Jaime took her face into his hands, pressing his mouth on both her cheeks, her jaw, her nose, her forehead. In the darkness, even without a torch their lips found each other and settled in the new hope of never having to part again.

 


End file.
